THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
VNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


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bJL^CINNATI  W*  XC>\*&r> 


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Of  tl?e  Sribe  of  J tidal? 

. . ai}d  . . 

Otl?er  poems. 


BY 

ALBERT  FRANK  HOFFMANN. 


Published  by 
Private  Subscription. 


FvDITED  by 
PyDWJN  F.  Flynn. 


•;usr 


§ 37  H 1 7 


m 


INDEX. 


PAGE. 

Preface . . . . ....  7 

1.  Of  the  Tribe  of  Judah 9 

2.  Reincarnation  34 

3.  The  Mystery  of  the  Stars  37 

4.  Some  Day 40 

5.  Psalm  One  Hundred  and  Seventeen  41 

6.  Song  of  the  Sea 42 

7.  With  Him  for  Aye 43 

8.  Before  the  Storm  45 

9.  The  Dying  Year  46 

10.  Some  Time 47 

11.  Musing  at  Eventide ......  49 

12.  Rondeau 51 

13.  When  the  Mists  have  Rolled  Away  52 

14.  Some  Sweet  Day  By  and  By  . 54 

15.  Retrospection  56 

16.  The  Death  Angel 58 

17.  The  Golden  Wedding  61 

18.  A Psalm  of  Hope 63 

19.  The  Decoration  Day 65 

20.  Grace  Before  Meals  68 

21.  A Plea  69 

22.  Rondeau  70 

23.  To  My  Wife 71 

24.  Independence  Day 73 

25.  An  Order  for  a Picture 75 

26.  In  Memoriam  of  the  Firemen 

William  Bocklage  and  Edward  Anderson.  77 

27.  The  Holy  Grail  ....  79 

28.  Shadow  Paintings  on  Thanksgiving  Eve  ...  80 


F-66850 


THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED  TO  THE 
SUBSCRIBERS. 


With  the  hope  that  it  may  shed — 

A ray  of  light 

Athwart  their  path  when  hope  has  fled  ; 
Amid  earth’s  night. 


—A.  F.  H. 


First  Baptist  Church  Study. 

-?pr  7^  7F  7F  7T  ^ 


PREFACE  TO  THE  BOOK. 

Cincinnati , O.,  Nov.  iqtJi  1891. 

TV**?  poems  contained  in  this  little  volume  have , most 
of  them , appeared  in  the  Commercial  Gazette , Evening 
Post , and  Herald  and  Presbytery ; all  of  these  papers 
published  in  this  city . The  author  is  a very  young  man 
and  has  ventured  this  volume  only  as  a promise  of  what 
he  believes  will  come  in  a larger  way  until  years  and 
ripening  thought. 

A good  deal  of  the  sentiment  has  been  worked  out  in 
the  hard  school  of  experience , and  as  his  Pastor , I know 
that : “ The  anguish  of  the  singer  has  made  the  sweetness 
of  the  strain  T His  thought  for  the  past  two  years  has 
been  rising  out  of  the  more  conventional  conceptions  of 
God  and  his  relation  to  man  into  a broader  sweep  and  a 
deeper  motive.  There • are  poems  here  which  are  indica- 
tive of  this  transition , to  me  they  are  the  best  which  the 
book  contains.  Taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that 
these  poems  were  written  between  times  of  hard  and 
active  labor  and  by  one  who  has  known  what  it  is  to  work 
with  his  hands  for  his  maintenance  during  years  when 
other  boys  are  at  school , the  artistic  excellence  of  the  work 
is  remarkable. 

As  one  of  my  young  men , I cherish  the  right  to  a 
large  pride  in  the  author , and  cheerfully  act  as  God- 
father to  the  volume. 


M.  C.  LOCKWOOD,  Pastor. 


THE  STORY  OF  CHRIST. 


PROLOGUE. 


THE  FARE. 

jf  mmortal  were  they,  our  first  parents,  ’til 
In  They  listened  to  the  tempter  born  of  Hell — 
To  the  Arch  Fiend,  and  listening  they  fell, 
By  disobeying  their  Creator’s  will. 

THE  CURSE. 

Made  mortal  were  they  by  the  primal  sin, 

Their  Eden  gone — yet  thro’  the  darkness  shone 
The  light  of  hope,  and  they  were  not  alone  — 
For  with  His  justice,  mercy  entered  in 

THE  PROMISE. 

Ere  they  were  driven  forth  from  Eden’s  gate, 
God’s  mercy  showed  itself  to  them,  and  He 
A promise  gave — that  of  her  seed  should  be 
A son  who  should  redeem  their  lost  estate. 

(9) 


IO  — 

THE  PROPHESIES. 

And  of  His  station,  it  was  said  that  He 
Should  be  of  princely  birth,  that  He  should  spring 
From  Judah’s  Tribe,  and  David’s  house,  a king — 
King,  prince  and  ruler,  ever  more  to  be. 

The  prophets  as  the  ages  onward  rolled, 

Spake  of  the  Son,  who  in  that  coming  day 
Should  free  them  from  the  curse  of  death,  and  they 
His  lowly  birth  and  suffering  fortold. 

Of  virgin  mother  born,  the  Christ  should  be, 

For  so  the  prophets  said,  and  when  he  came, 

Divine  should  be  His  coming,  and  His  name 
Is  Jesus,  for  His  people  He  shall  free. 

THE  ANNUNCIATION. 

To  Mary,  wife  of  Joseph,  came  the  voice 

Of  the  Arch-Angel  Gabriel,  and  he 

Spake  thus:  “ Fear  not,  God  hath  o’ershadowed  thee, 

Thou  hast  found  favor  in  His  sight — rejoice. 

“The  Holy  Ghost  thro’  thee  with  man  shall  blend, 
The  holy  thing  that  shall  be  born  of  thee, 

Shall  be  the  Son  of  God,  the  mighty  tree 
Of  Israel,  whose  kingdom  hath  no  end.” 


— i r — 

CHRISTMAS  BETTS. 

Ivisten  to  the  merry  bells, 

Hear  the  Christmas  bells ; 

Now  their  melody  fortells 
Peace  and  joy 
Without  alloy, 

As  the  rythmic  music  swells 
On  the  air, 

It  seems  to  bear 
A message  of  good  will  to  men, 

A peace  beyond  our  human  ken. 

Hear  them  chime,  oh  hear  the  bells, 

Hear  the  holy  bells, 

Hear  the  anthem  grand,  it  tells 
Of  the  birth — 

The  holy  birth 

Of  the  Christ,  and  as  it  swells 
Grand  and  free, 

I seem  to  see 

The  things  that  were  on  that  bright  morn. 
When  Christ  the  holy  child  was  born. 


PART  FIRST. 


THE  NATIVITY — WITH  HYMN. 

I. 

hush  is  brooding  over  all — ’tis  night, 
Judea’s  hills  are  bathed  in  hallowed  light; 
See  in  the  ether  depths  yon  flaming  star. 
Celestial  in  its  brightness — from  afar 
’Tis  seen  by  wise  men — wizards  of  the  East, 

A Hindoo,  Greek,  and  an  Egytian  priest. 

Eong  had  they  sought,  yea  long  and  vainly  so, 
The  God  unknown  to  them,  and  now  they  go 
In  search  of  Him,  the  star  their  guide 
Doth  lead  them  to  a manger’s  side ; 

In  swaddling  cloths  they  see  Him  lie 
The  “Prince  of  Peace,’’  and  drawing  nigh, 
They  bend  the  knee  and  homage  pay, 

Acknowledging  His  mighty  sway. 

(12) 


x3 


II. 

The  shephards  as  they  watch  their  flock  at  night, 
Encompassed  are  by  a Celestial  light ; 

And  they  a glorious  vision  do  behold, 

A scene  whose  glory  never  can  be  told. 

’Tis  an  Arch- Angel  that  to  them  appears, 

Amid  a heav’nly  host — he  quells  their  fears. 

Hark  ! Listen  to  the  message  that  is  borne 
From  Heav’n,  tells  it  of  the  natal  morn. 

Behold  glad  tidings  of  great  joy, 

Good  will  and  peace  without  alloy 
We  bring,  for  unto  you  this  day 
Is  born  a Savior,  haste  away 
To  Bethlehem — the  star  your  guide 
Will  lead  you  to  Messiah’s  side. 

III. 

To  God  be  all  the  giory,  angels  sing, 

For  unto  you  this  day  is  born  a king ; 

The  Christ  He  shall  be  called,  for  He  shall  be 
The  Savior  of  His  people,  and  shall  free 
Them  from  transgression,  praise  ye — praise  the  Lord, 
Praise  Him,  ye  nations  all,  with  one  accord. 

The  heav’nly  babe  brings  joy  beyond  the  ken 
Of  humankind — peace  and  good  will  to  men  ; 


14 


And  now  the  glory  of  His  birth 
Steals  o’er  the  weary  sinful  earth. 

The  heavens  ope’ — an  anthem  grand 
Is  chanted  by  an  angel  band. 

Now  hark ! The  song  on  seraph  wing. 
Is  borne  to  me — ’tis  thus  they  sing. 

Thrice  blessed  morn 
On  which  is  born 
Th’  Eternal  King  of  Kings ; 

Peace  and  good  will 
The  earth  to  fill, 

From  Heav’n  Messiah  brings. 

The  realms  of  light 
For  earthly  night 
He  leaves — the  sacrifice 
Will  break  the  ban, 

Restore  to  man 
The  loss  of  Paradise. 

Oh  praise  the  Ford 
With  one  accord, 

To  him  be  glory  given  ; 

Let  joyful  lays 
And  earnest  praise, 

Reach  Him  who  reigns  in  Heav’n. 


15 


Blest  be  the  morn 
For  he  is  born, 

The  Savior,  King  of  Kings 
Peace  and  good  will 
The  earth  to  fill, 

With  Him  Messiah  brings. 


PART  SECOND. 


THE  PASSION  PLAY. 

I. 

he  scene  is  changed,  and  after  many  years 
Have  ta’en  their  flight,  the  Christ  again  appears 
Appears  where  Jordan  rolls,  to  there  begin 
His  ministery,  redeeming  men  from  sin. 

A dove  of  fire  appears  above  His  head 
Mid  a Celestial  glory — Heav’n  shed; 

God  bears  Him  witness  ere  the  work  begun, 
Declaring  Him  His  well-beloved  Son. 

Troughont  Judea  men  extol  his  deeds, 

In  Him  the  Jew  and  Gentile  lose  their  creeds; 

The  blind  receive  their  sight,  He  heals  the  lame, 

E’en  from  the  tomb  doth  He  the  dead  reclaim 
In  every  work  He  showeth  them  a sign, 

His  every  act  is  born  of  the  divine. 

His  wisdom  doth  compel  belief — ’tis  He, 

The  long  expected  Christ  of  prophesy 


’Mid  a Celestial  Glory — Heaven  Shed. 


I7 


II. 

The  priesthood  seeing  now  their  every  hope 
In  jeopardy,  must  needs  with  Him  to  cope. 

They  see  their  rule  of  darkness  giving  place 
To  better  things,  and  breaking  o’er  the  race 
They  see  the  newer  day;  and  in  the  man, 

They  see  the  breaking  of  the  cursed  ban 
Of  superstition,  they  see  all  their  power 
A loss,  through  Him.  They  see  the  mighty  tower — 
The  fortress  of  the  priest-craft  swept  away, 

They  fear  the  teachings  of  the  Christ,  and  they 
Seek  for  His  life.  “The  Son  of  Man”  heeds  not 
The  wolfish  clique,  nor  gives  to  them  a thought. 

They  can  not  harm  the  man  until  the  hour 
Ordained  of  God  is  come,  and  all  their  power 
Is  spent  for  naught.  But  we  must  turn  again 
To  Christ,  for  He,  far  from  the  haunts  of  men 
Betakes  His  way,  to  there  commune  with  God — 

To  suffer  ere  He  tastes  the  chastening  rod. 

III. 

As  the  Christ  nears  Gethsemane, 

The  shadows  o’er  Him  steal 
Of  the  impending  gloom,  and  He 
In  prayer  is  seen  to  kneel. 


— 1 8 — 

He  speaks,  and  now  the  Savior’s  eye 
Is  lifted  to  the  throne  on  high. 

For  man  he  prays,  the  while  His  soul 
Is  tempest  tost  mid  surges  roll. 

But  hark ! The  prayer  I seem  to  hear, 
’Tis  borne  to  me,  soft,  low  and  clear. — 

THE  PRAYER. 

I. 

Dear  Father,  now  the  hour  is  come, 

I pray  Thee,  glorify  Thy  son 
Whom  Thou  hast  sent,  that  he  also 
May  glorify  Thee  here  below. 

For  thou  the  power  to  him  hast  given 
Of  life  eternal,  and  hast  riven 
The  bonds  of  Death,  that  he  might  give 
To  whosoever  would  believe 
On  Thee,  the  True,  the  Living  One, 

And  me,  Thy  son,  Thine  only  son, 
Eternal  life.  On  earth  have  I 
Thee  glorified;  the  hour  is  nigh, 

The  work  is  finished,  I pray  Thee, 

Oh,  Father,  glorify  Thou  me 
With  Thine  ownself,  the  glory  that 
Was  mine,  ere  was  the  earth  begat. 


— 19  — 

II. 

I manifested  have  Thy  name, 

To  them  Thou  gavest  me,  the  same 
Are  Thine;  Thy  word  in  them  is  found, 
They  know,  that  in  which  I abound 
Is  all  for  Thee — they  have  received 
Thy  word,  and  me  they  have  believed. 
For  them  I pray  which  are  from  Thee 
For  them  that  Thou  hast  given  me. 

For  they  are  Thine  they  which  are  mine, 
And  through  them  doth  our  glory  shine. 
Oh,  Holy  Father,  be  their  stay — 

Their  guide,  when  I no  longer  may 
Be  with  them,  then  I pray  as  one 
May  they  all  be,  like  Father,  Son. 

III. 

None  have  I lost  Thou  gavest  me, 

None,  save  the  ’Scariot,  and  he 
Fulfilled  the  Scripture  hath,  which  saith 
“Perdition’s  Son,  should  to  the  death 
His  Ford  betray.”  Now  unto  Thee 
I come,  I pray  these  things  may  be; 
That  they  might  conquer  Death  and  Sin, 
That  they  my  joy  might  have  within. 


20 


Because  they  are  not  of  the  world, 

It  hated  them,  at  them  is  hurled 
Its  scorn ; yet  I pray  not  that  Thou 
Should’st  take  them  from  the  world,  but  how 
To  conquer  evil,  do  Thou  teach 
Each  one.  Now  Father,  I beseech 
Thee,  sanctify  them  through  Thy  word, 

The  word  of  truth  which  they  have  heard. 

IV. 

And  now  into  the  world  I send 

These  who  are  mine,  as  Thou  did’st  send 

Thine  only  son  —and  for  their  sake 

I sanctify  myself — O ! make 

Thy  sanctifyng  power  now 

Upon  them  come,  as  I here  bow. 

Yet  not  for  these  alone  I pray, 

But  for  all,  whosoever  they 

May  be,  who  through  their  word  believe 

On  me,  for  them  this  prayer  receive. 

As  Thou,  O Father,  art  in  me, 

And  I in  Thee,  oh,  may  they  be 
As  one;  that  all  the  world  may  know 
Whom  Thou  hast  sent,  now  I bestow 


21 


The  glory  that  Thou  gavest  me 
On  them,  that  they  as  one  might  be, 

And  perfected  in  one,  as  we 

Are  one — that  all  the  world  may  see 

The  love  wherewith  Thou  loved’st  me. 

V. 

For  thou  did’st  love  me  ere  was  laid 
The  Earth’s  foundation — when  is  paid 
The  ransom,  Father,  take  Thou  me 
To  Thine  ownself,  and  may  they  be 
At  one  with  us.  Now  may  the  love 
I had  with  Thee  in  realms  above, 

In  these  be  found,  and  may  in  them 
My  image  be,  I pray.  Amen. 

VI. 

And  rising  now,  He  seeks  Gethsemane, 

The  fairest  garden  in  all  Israel ; 

His  followers  are  left  to  watch,  for  He 
Would  be  alone,  to  suffer,  and  to  tell 
His  Father  of  the  battle  that  within 
His  breast  was  raging  for  the  mastery — 

To  ask  for  strength  to  conquer  Death  and  Sin, 
For  strength  to  gain  the  mighty  victory. 


22 


VII. 

And  finding  now  His  comrades  fast  asleep, 

He  wakens  them,  and  tells  them  that  the  hour 
Ordained  of  God  is  come — that  He  must  reap 
The  sting  of  Death.  Betrayed  into  the  power 
Of  sinners  and  the  priest-craft,  is  the  Son 
Of  the  Most  High— His  life’s  work’s  nearly  done. 
They  seek  His  life,  nor  seek  they  it  in  vain, 

For  Judas,  the  Iscariot — to  gain 

A paltry  sum  of  gold,  doth  Him  betray 

Into  the  hands  of  the  priest-craft,  and  they 

Bear  Him  before  the  governor,  and  there 

Charge  Him  with  blasphemy,  themselves  forswear 

Now  the  false  witnesses  bring  forth  their  lies, 

To  hurl  against  the  calm  of  His  sad  eyes; 

The  council  mob  press  near,  and  they  increase 
In  wrath  and  hate,  the  while  Christ  holds  His  peace 


Crucified 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


ow  see  the  “Son  of  Man/’ 

With  God-like  majesty 
Before  the  dread  tribunal  stand; 
His  judge  would  set  Him  free. 

But  no,  “The  man  must  die,” 

So  cries  the  rabble  hord, 

“Come,  crucify  the  blasphemer,’’ 

They  shout  with  one  accord. 

Not  guilty,  saitli  the  law 
By  which  the  man  is  tried ; 

“His  blood  be  on  our  heads”  they  cry, 

If  He  is  crucified. 

The  judge,  to  cleanse  himself 
His  hands  doth  wash — he  seeks 
To  flee  from  the  dread  crime,  of  which 
His  inner  conscience  speaks. 

(23^ 


24 


They  crown  His  head  with  thorns, 
Then  hail  the  “Nazarene” 

Their  king,  in  scornful  jest,  which  He 
Bears  with  majestic  mien. 

They  clamor  for  His  blood, 

Their  wrath  to  gratify  ; 

Mid  scorn  and  insult,  gibe  and  sneer, 
They  lead  Him  forth  to  die. 


And  now  tow’rd  Calvary 
With  a misguided  zeal, 

The  rabble  hord  betakes  its  way 
For  human  woe  or  weal. 

I see  the  Master  sink 
Beneath  His  burden  grim, 

The  Cyrene,  Simon,  volunteers 
To  bear  the  cross  for  Him. 

And  now  they  near  the  goal, 

The  crucifixion  place; 

Where  the  destroyer  grim  doth  reign, 
Where  Death  has  left  his  trace. 


25 


I hear  the  ringing  blows, 
Their  hellish  works  begin ; 
No  cry  is  heard — no  murmur — as 
The  nails  are  driven  in. 


For  Jesus  holds  His  peace 
Mid  the  encircling  gloom, 

And  like  a lamb  to  slaughter  led, 
He  calmly  meets  His  doom. 

Uplift  they  now  the  cross, 

He  hangs  ’twixt  earth  and  sky, 
With  an  heroic  courage  He 

Bears  all,  nor  heaves  a sigh. 


Two  others  meet  their  fate, 
They,  too,  are  crucified ; 

They  curse  and  rave  in  agony, 

And  pray  for  the  death-tide. 

One,  turning  now  to  Christ, 

In  scorn  and  mockery, 

With  curses  saith,  “If  Thou  be  God, 
Us  and  Thyself  set  free.' 


26 


111  a rebuking  tone, 

The  other  answ’ring  saith  : 

“ Dost  thou  not  fear  the  wrath  of  God, 
Eternified  in  death?” 

“Our  death  is  merited, 

Our  acts  have  led  to  this ; 

But  He  who  dies  with  us  to-day, 

Has  nothing  done  amiss.” 

And  turning  now  to  Christ 
“Jesus,”  I hear  him  say, 

“When  to  Thy  kingdom  Thou  art  come 
Remember  me,  I pray.” 

The  answer  quickly  comes : 

‘ In  Paradise  this  day 
Thy  soul  shall  be  ; and  thou  shalt  dwell 
In  that  bright  realm  for  aye.’ 


But  even  as  He  speaks, 

The  trumpet  sounds  the  hour, 

And  then  a change,  stupendous  change, 
Seems  to  bespeak  His  power. 


27 


For  see  yon  inky  clouds, 

They  change  the  day  to  night ; 
They  veil  the  sun’s  bright  face,  and  fill 
Men  with  dismay  and  fright. 

The  lightnings,  flashing  now, 
Illuminate  His  form; 

A halo  of  Celestial  light, 

Surrounds  Him  mid  the  storm. 

A strange,  unearthly  dread, 

Has  settled  over  all ; 

For  three  long  awful  hours,  the  clouds 
Hang  there  like  a dark  pall 


And  as  the  darkness  fades, 
The  lightnings  flash  the  more 
About  His  form,  anon  is  heard 
The  distant  thunders’  roar. 


Intense  the  anguish,  that 
Is  written  on  His  face; 

On  it  the  inward  suffering, 

And  pain  doth  leave  its  trace. 


28 


By  God  and  man  alike 
Deserted  now  he  seems; 

Round  Him,  like  lances  made  of  fire, 
The  livid  lightning  gleams. 

Now  hark  ! Dost  hear  His  voice, 
In  bitter  anguish,  He 
Cries  out : “ My  Father,  tell  me  why 
Thou  hast  forsaken  me.” 

And  then  He  prays,  alike, 

For  Gentile  and  for  Jew : 

“Oh,  Father,  these  forgive,  for  they — 
They  know  not  what  they  do.” 


Once  more  I hear  Him  speak: 
“My  Father,  take  Thou  me; 
Tis  finished,  and  I now  commend 
My  spirit  unto  Thee. 


His  head  falls  on  His  breast, 
His  spirit  now  has  flown  ; 

A halo  for  an  instant,  plays 
About  His  earthly  throne. 


29 


And  then  the  earth  doth  quake, 
And  men  are  terrified, 

The  temple’s  veil  is  rent  in  twain, 

The  tombs  are  opened  wide. 

And  the  centurion  now, 

In  fear,  is  heard  to  say : 

“This  truly  was  the  Son  of  God, 

We’ve  crucified  to-day.” 

His  body  now  is  ta'en 
From  the  accursed  place; 

They  give  the  seeming  Conquered  One, 
To  the  cold  tombs  embrace. 

Ah  ! Tittle  do  they  think, 

That  ere  three  days  are  flown, 

That  He  will  gain  the  victory, 

The  grave  be  overthrown. 

But  see,  the  night  has  flown, 

Her  sable  wings  have  borne 
Her  from  the  shores  of  darkness,  and 
The  glad  new  day  is  born. 


THE  EASTER  TRADITION. 


I. 

tk  mystic  quiet  reigned, 

A stillness  lingered  there ; 

The  night  of  Death  had  waned. 
And  on  that  morning  fair — 

Ere  the  Sun  had  yet  bespoken, 
That  the  dawn  of  day  had  broken, 
The  chains  of  Death  were  riven, 

And  eternal  life  was  given — 

To  mankind. 


II. 

When  drowsiness  from  earth 
Had  scarce  begun  to  flee, 

The  early  morn  gave  birth 
To  immortality — 

Then  the  weeping  and  the  sadness 
Of  the  earth  were  turned  to  gladness, 
The  Lord  of  Fife  ascended, 

In  His  wings  had  healing  blended-- 
For  the  blind 
(30) 


3i 


III. 

Angelic  hosts  had  come 
At  early  dawn  of  day, 

They  rolled  the  barrier  from 
The  tomb  wherein  He  lay — 

And  they  sang  a song,  “He  liveth 
Who  was  dead,  ’Tis  He  that  giveth 
A peace  which  is  abiding, 

And  the  promi.se  of  His  guiding — 

Till  the  end. 

IV. 

He  came  the  Prince — the  King, 

Eternal  life  He  gave ; 

Oh ! Death  where  is  thy  sting, 

Thy  victory,  oh!  Grave. 

Thou  art  robbed,  thy  bonds  are  broken. 
For  He  lives  and  He  has  spoken, 

His  voice  is  still  resounding 

Thro’  the  earth,  and  joys  abounding — 

With  it  blend. 


32 


V. 

Tlio’  centuries  have  fled, 

His  accents  still  survive, 

“I  am  he  that  was  dead  ; 

Behold  I am  alive" — 

Thro’  the  ages  still  is  glowing 
Like  the  Sun — on  man  bestowing, 
A faith  which  is  ne’er  shaken, 

Which,  when  seemingly  forsaken — 
Doth  abide. 

VI. 

When  comes  the  reaper  Death, 

Again  we’ll  hear  His  voice; 

When  leaves  the  parting  breath, 

Our  spirits  will  rejoice  — 

In  the  end  we’ll  find  perfection, 

In  the  Living  Ressurection, 

When  earth’s  dark  ties  are  riven 
IJs  to  realms  of  bliss — to  Heaven — 
Will  be  guide 


- 


THE  AFTERTHOUGHT. 


e is  risen — Christ  is  risen, 

The  chaotic  state  of  night, 
Which  for  centuries  enshrouded 
Humankind,  hath  taken  its  flight. 

He  hath  overcome  earth’s  bondage, 
Fetters  broken — He  is  free; 

Over  Death  and  all  his  minnions, 

He  hath  gained  the  victory. 

He  is  risen — Christ  is  risen, 

Bringing  joy  to  fill  the  earth — 

Joy  and  gladness,  at  the  coming 
Of  that  blessed  second  birth. 

He  hath  robbed  the  grave  of  vict’ry, 
Immortality  is  born — 

Softly  angel  voices  whisper, 

On  the  hallowed  Easter  morn. 

He  is  risen — Christ  is  risen, 

Lifted  is  the  cursed  gloom, 

And  the  mists  have  rolled  in  splendor 
From  the  shadows  of  the  tomb. 

Finis. 

(33) 


REINCARNATION. 


I he  soft  even  shades  were  blending 

With  the  deeper  gloom  of  night, 
While  the  far  off  stars  were  sending 
Forth  their  mellow  rays  of  light — 
Mellow  light,  which,  in  its  falling, 

Wierd,  uncanny  shadows  cast, 

Which  forever  seemed  recalling 
Ghostly  pictures  from  the  past. 


Death  was  there,  and  there  was  dying, 

And  the  last  link  in  the  chain 
Had  been  forged — the  winds  were  sighing, 
A sad  and  dirge-like  refrain  ; 

And  the  bright  stars,  far  off,  glimmered, 
Ever  glimmered,  ever  shimmered— 
And  the  winds  forever  moaning, 

Ever  moaning,  ever  groaning — 
Changed  their  music  into  sighing 
Dirges,  for  one  who  was  dying, 

As  the  Reaper  Grim  drew  near, 

To  relieve  the  aged  seer — 

All  was  dark  and  desolate. 

(34) 


— • 35 

All  was  dark  and  desolate, 

And  the  wild  winds  seemed  to  me — 

As  thro’  the  leafless  trees 
They  shrieked — to  laugh  in  fiendish  glee, 
Laugh  and  mock  at  misery. 

And  upon  a couch  near  by, 

Lay  a withered,  wasted  form, 

The  voyage  nearly  o’er, 

He  saw  the  haven — where  no  storm 
Vents  its  fury — weary,  worn. 

In  his  dreams  I heard  him  speak 
Of  the  meadow  and  the  glade, 

Where  ’neath  the  trees  he  oft 
Had  sought  the  cool,  refreshing  shade — 
Then  the  picture  seemed  to  fade. 

Then,  again  he  dreamed,  a strange, 
Wierd,  wild  dream — my  blood  was  chilled 
By  morbid  fancies,  which 
His  wierd  hallucinations  willed, 

Then  they  ceased,  forever  stilled— 
He  was  dead, 

He  was  dead. 


36 


When  I awakened  from  my  dreaming. 

Still  the  far  off  stars  were  gleaming; 

And  the  wild  winds  which  were  moaning, 
Ceased  their  moaning  and  their  groaning — 
And  the  spirit  which  ascended 
Long  before,  had  been  imblended 
Into  me,  and  I was  living — 

Who  had  lived,  and  I was  giving 
Forth  but  a continuation 
Of  his  life. 

Reincarnation, 

Oh,  the  mystery  is  unending, 

That  of  life  forever  blending ; 

It  will  merge  into  perfection, 

And  a living  resurrection, 

When  hath  ended  skepticism, 

And  all  creed  and  every  chism ; 

Real  will  be  the  scripture  story, 

We  shall  see  the  Father’s  glory — 

In  that  day, 

In  that  day. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  STARS. 


^f|Jpe  glittering  stars,  which  gleam 
And  sparkle  thro’  the  night ; 
When  quiet  reigns  supreme, 

I watch  your  fairy  light. 

When  all,  yes,  all,  in  sleep 
Have  closed  each  weary  eye, 

When  earth — when  sky — when  deep. 
In  stillness  shrouded  lie — 

I ponder  then, 

I wonder  when 

Ye  got  your  birth, 

And  o’er  the  earth 
Cast  your  first  ray  of  light, 

Ye  guardians  of  the  night. 

Who  hung  ye  there  in  space, 

Ye  beauteous  gems  of  night, 

To  guard  the  human  race, 

The  universe  to  light. 

(37) 


38 


What  power  broke  the  bars 
And  left  your  radiance  out, 

To  kindle  space — ye  stars 
When  did  ye  put  to  rout — 

Chaotic  night, 

That  earthly  blight, 

Which  man  still  feels, 

’Neath  which  he  reels, 
When  darkness  like  a pall, 

Hath  spread  herself  o’er  all. 

How  fair  ye  shine  to-night, 

The  heavens  seem  to  glow, 

A radiant  mellow  light 
Is  shed  on  all  below. 

In  slumber  wrapt,  the  earth, 
Beneath  your  watchful  care, 

Sleeps  calmly,  till  the  birth 
Of  amber  morning  fair — 

At  break  of  day 
Ye  pass  away, 

Ye  come  once  more, 

When  darkness  o’er 
The  earth  her  wings  hath  spread, 
When  scarce  the  twilight’s  fled 


39 


That  power  infinite, 

Which  being  gave  to  you ; 

His  purpose  what  was  it — 

To  guide,  and  to  imbue 
The  sons  of  men  with  light, 

As  twinkling  brightly  ye 
Would  guide  them  thro’  the  night, 
Across  life’s  raging  sea  ? 

This  His  design, 

This  why  ye  shine  ? 

* * * 

And  then  in  accents  low,  and  clear, 
The  answer  comes,  ’tis  this  I hear- 
We  here  abide, 

The  soul  to  guide 
Into  the  realms  of  day, 

When  night  has  passed  away. 


c 


SOME  DAY 


ome  day,  and  shall  we  ever  see 

That  longed  for  sweet  some  day  ? 
Yes,  when  our  joys  shall  blended  be 
With  those  of  Heav’n  ; when  sinless,  we 
Shall  dwell  with  God  for  aye. 

And  in  that  longed  for,  sweet  some  day, 

The  Lord  will  know  His  own  ; 

When  these  our  souls  have  winged  their  way 
To  regions  bright,  of  endless  day  ; 

We’ll  know  as  we  are  known. 

Some  day — aye  some  day — we  shall  see 
Frustrations  of  to-day 
In  glad  fruition  ; hope  shall  be 
Changed  to  existance  then,  and  we 
With  Him  shall  dwell  for  aye. 

In  that,  sweet  longed  for,  coming  day, 

His  children  He  will  own  ; 

Their  dwelling  place,  the  realms  of  day 
When  earthly  night  has  passed  away — 

The  unknown  shall  be  known. 


PSALM  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTEEN. 


«e  nations,  all,  your  voices  raise, 

Chant  to  the  Lord  a song  sublime ; 
Enweaving  in  the  rythmic  rhyme, 
To  God  the  good,  your  highest  praise. 


He  witness  bears  you,  by  the  blaze 
Of  His  own  hallowed  love  sublime, 
Which  burns  within,  Thro’  present  time, 
And  the  eternity  of  days. 

The  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  sure, 

To  us  ward  loving-kind  is  He  ; 

His  truth  forever  shall  endure, 

Thro’  time  and  thro’  eternity. 

Then  sing  your  praises  to  the  Lord, 

Ye  nations,  all,  with  one  accord. 


(40 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  SEA. 


% I. 

ad  the  thoughts  it  recalls  to-night, 

The  murmuring  voices  of  the  sea  ; 
As  it  breaks  on  the  cold,  gray  rocks, 
It  brings  back  the  past  to  me. 

II. 

In  the  hush  of  the  summer  night, 

I hear  its  sweet  song,  and  for  me — 
The  wild  waves  as  they  lap  the  shores, 
Chant  a sweet,  sad  melody. 

III. 

'Tis  a ballad  of  long  ago, 

Of  hopes  that  have  withered  away  ; 
And  the  song  that  they  chant  to-night, 

But  recalls  the  yesterday. 


(42) 


WITH  HIM  FOR  AYE. 


I. 


|ho’  every  hope  becomes  a blight, 
This  life  be  like  the  darkling  night, 
Since  Christ  is  mine  ; 

I know  this  suffering  shall  cease, 

I know  some  day  I shall  find  peace, 

A peace  divine  — 

With  Him  for  ave. 


II. 

Tho’  stormy  clouds  sweep  overhead, 
Tho’  rugged,  steep,  the  path  I tread, 
And  darkness  there  ; 

I’ll  trust  Him  till  that  living  day 
Shall  break  o’er  me — since  then  I may 
His  glory  share — 

With  Him  for  aye. 


(43) 


44 


III. 

In  sunshine  and  when  shadows  fall, 
Jesus  is  mine,  my  all  in  all, 

In  Him  I trust ; 

He  sticketh  closer  than  a friend, 

He’ll  guide  me  to  the  journey’s  end 
I shall  be  blest — 

With  Him  for  aye. 

IV. 

Tho’  bleak  the  elements  which  .sweep 
The  rugged  road — His  grace  will  keep 
My  soul  when  tried  ; 

Into  the  glorious  realms  of  light, 
vSome  day  my  soul  shall  take  its  flight, 
To  there  abide — 

With  Him  for  aye. 


BEFORE  THE  STORM. 


Ippressive  is  the  darkness  hanging  o’er 
All  nature,  and  unearthly  is  the  light 
With  which  it  blended  is — ’tis  as  a blight 
To  humankind  from  some  plutonian  shore. 

A silence  strange  and  an  oppressive  calm, 

Seems  to  prevade  and  fill  the  atmosphere 
With  a forboding  ill ; I seem  to  hear 
Strange  voices  chanting  an  unearthly  psalm. 
The  night  wind  bears  to  me  the  curfew’s  chime. 
And  in  prophetic  voice  it  seems  to  say : 

“The  hour  is  come  and  earth  must  pass  away, 
Eternity  has  brought  the  end  of  Time.” 


THE  STORM. 


And  now  in  fury  wild  the  storm  doth  break, 

And  thunders  roar  and  vivid  lightnings  gleam  ; 
They  cast  wierd,  ghostly  shadows,  and  they  seem 
Betokening  the  God  whom  men  forsake. 


THE  AFTERTHOUGHT. 

E’en  as  I muse,  the  storm  clouds  take  their  flight. 
And  through  the  rifted  Heav’ns  far  above, 

The  twinkling  stars  declare  the  God  of  love; 

As  they  the  earth  fill  with  their  silvery  light. 

(45) 


THE  DYING  YEAR. 


he  tide  is  on  the  ebb,  and  the  old  year 
Is  dying  now,  and  as  the  end  he  nears 
No  requiem  is  chanted,  and  no  tears 
Are  shed  for  him.  Now  hark  ! I seem  to  hear 
The  dying  chime,  ’tis  sounding  low  and  clear, 
And  born  upon  the  winds — with  it  appears 
The  Angel  Death,  he  bids  me  quell  my  fears, 
Bespeaks  he  brighter  hopes  beyond  the  bier. 

The  distant  curfew’s  tolling  low  and  clear 
Chime  a farewell — the  age  now  disappears 
Mid  sighings  of  the  wind — born  to  mine  ears 
It  seemeth  as  a dirge  for  the  dead  year. 

See — as  it  fades  away,  upon  the  bier 
A light  is  shed,  the  dawn  of  a new  year. 


(46) 


SOME  TIME. 


*ho’  dark  and  drear  the  stormy  clouds, 
Are  sweeping  o’er  the  main  ; 
r^v  Tho’  dark  and  dreary  be  life’s  night, 
The  heart  be  filled  with  pain — 

We  know  ’twill  not  be  very  long, 

’Till  they  are  swept  away; 

The  stormy  clouds  will  be  no  more, 

When  breaks  the  dawning  day. 

For  surely  the  Eternal  One 

Will  give  us  peace,  will  say  well  done — 

Some  time. 

We  know  in  Autumn  that  the  leaves 
Will  fade  and  pass  away, 

That  summer  skies  will  be  no  more, 

That  tints  of  sombre  gray 
Will  mark  where  once  the  sky  was  blue  ; 


(47) 


48 


Mayhap  ’twill  make  us  mourn, 

For  bright  and  pleasant  summer  days 
That  never  will  return. 

Yet,  summers  new,  full  well  we  know, 

May  richer  gifts  on  us  bestow — 

Some  time. 

Tho’  blighted  be  our  every  hope, 

By  sorrows  chilling  blast  ; 

Tho’  sad  this  earthly  pilgrimage, 

We’ll  reach  the  end  at  last. 

The  end,  where  storms  and  withering  blasts 
Of  life  will  only  lend, 

The  sunlight  of  eternal  love, 

On  earth  a glorious  end. 

What  joy  ’twill  be  to  reach  that  shore, 
Where  all  is  peace  forevermore — 

Some  time. 


MUSING  AT  EVENTIDE. 


^he  daylight  fades, 

The  Sun  sinks  in  the  West; 
The  even  shades, 

Come  with  their  cool,  sweet  rest. 

I sit  alone, 

Anon  is  born  to  me 
The  night  winds  moan, 

It  chants  a lullaby. 


The  wind  with  many  a moaning  sound, 

Sweeps  ’neath  the  eaves  and  all  around. 

Now  hark  ! dost  hear  in  wailing  tone, 

Born  on  the  winds  that  piteous  moan? 

* ^ * 

* 

It  seems  like  the  despairing  cry 
Of  some  lost  soul,  not  doomed  to  die — 
But  doomed  to  wander,  doomed  by  fate 
Thus  some  dark  past  to  expiate. 

* u * 

* 

Nay,  ’tis  the  night  wind  sweeping  by, 
With  many  a moan,  and  many  a sigh  ; 
With  many  a shriek  in  fiendish  glee, 
For  monarch  of* the  storm  is  he. 

(49) 


50 


Now  rich  and  strong, 

Now  soft  and  low,  they  chant 
What  seems  a song 
Of  angels  visitant ; 

And  now  to  me 
There  comes  a spirit  call, 

And  mystery 
Seems  brooding  over  all, 

Now  Hark!  the  winds  in  rhythm  low 
A cadance  sweet  on  me  bestow, 

And  voices  from  the  past  I hear, 

They  come  to  me,  sweet,  low  and  clear. 

* u * 

* 

They  chant  a hollowed  song  of  love, 
Borne  from  the  brightest  realms  above ; 
A message  sweet  they  bear  to  me  — 

They  calm  life’s  troubled,  restless  sea. 

* , * 

* 

And  as  they  sweep,  with  moaning  sound, 
Beneath  the  eaves  and  all  around, 

God’s  angels  do  with  me  abide, 

While  I muse  thus  an  eventide. 


RONDEAU. 


y Father,  lead  Thou  me — the  wild, 

Fierce  storms  of  life  beat  round  Thy  child. 
Thou  art  the  rock  on  which  I stand, 

As  the  wild  waves  beat  on  the  strand 
Which  borders  the  eternal  land. 

Let  not  my  soul  e’er  be  beguiled 
By  the  Arch  Fiend ; who  had  reviled 
Its  Maker — by  Thy  clas-ped  hand. 

My  Father,  lead  Thou  me. 

Teach  me  to  know  and  understand 
Thy  will,  that  I may  do  it,  and 
Thy  presence  when  the  .storm  is  wild, 

Let  it  surround  Thine  erring  child — 

Till  I have  gained  fair  Canaan’s  strand, 

My  Father,  lead  Thou  me. 


(5i) 


WHEN  THE  MISTS  HAVE  ROLLED  AWAY. 


Who’  crushed  be  each  fond  hope  that  lies 
;fe  Within  the  human  breast ; 

'IF  Th o’  broken  be  all  earthly  ties, 

Our  spirits  be  oppressed  ; 

Tho’  bleak — tho’  barren  be  the  way, 

, Remember  ere  the  dawn 
’Tis  darkest ; and  the  breaking  day 
Will  see  thy  sorrow  gone. 

To  realms  of  joy  thy  soul  shall  flee. 

From  earthly  woe  forever  free — 

When  the  mists  have  rolled  away. 


Tho’  stormy  clouds  may  sweep  to-day 
Across  the  raging  main  ; 

We  know  that  when  they’ve  passed  away, 
The  Sun  will  shine  again — 

That  after  storms  have  swept  the  skies, 
The  Sun  at  eve  will  set 
In  splendor,  ’mid  Celestial  dyes, 

Which  one  can  ne’er  forget. 

’Tis  thus  we’ll  end  this  pilgrimage, 

Like  as  the  Sun — no  storms  will  rage  - 

When  the  mists  have  rolled  away. 
(52) 


53 


Tho’  torn  asunder — cast  aside, 

Each  expectation  be  ; 

Tho’  swept  away  by  storm  and  tide, 

The  dawning  day  will  see 
Our  blighted  hopes  in  bloom  again, 

In  harmony  each  chord  ; 

Where  ransomed  souls  a glad  refrain 
Are  chanting  to  the  Eord — 

’Tis  thus  our  grief  shall  melt  away, 

With  that  first  flash  of  Heavenly  day — 

When  the  mists  have  rolled  away. 

Tho’  man  is  weak  and  prone  to  err, 

To  wander  from  his  God  ; 

All  human  kind  is  wont  to  share 
In  this — this  path  is  trod 
By  all ; yet  He,  the  God  of  love, 

Who  doeth  for  the  best 
All  things,  will  in  the  realms  above, 

Give  to  the  weary  rest. 

The  earth-tried  soul  shall  take  its  flight, 
Into  the  hallowed  realms  of  light — 

When  the  mists  have  rolled  away. 


SOME  SWEET  DAY  BY  AND  BY. 

I. 

ome  sweet  day  by  and  by — 

Precious  promise  He  has  given, 

That  when  earth’s  dark  ties  are  riven, 

We  shall  meet  Him,  and  forever 
Dwell  with  Him,  where  naught  can  sever 
Us  from  the  Eternal  love, 

We  shall  meet  Him  there  above — 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by. 

II. 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by — 

There  shall  be  no  more  of  sighing, 

There  shall  be  no  more  of  dying ; 

At  the  dawning  of  the  morning — 

Of  that  fair  and  glorious  morning, 

When  life’s  night  has  passed  away, 

When  has  come  the  living  day — 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by. 


(54) 


55 


III. 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by — 

Shall  be  blotted  out  the  sorrow 
Of  this  life — and  on  the  morrow 
Shall  our  spirits  find  their  nesting 
On  His  bosom — sweetly  resting 
From  all  earthly  strife  and  care, 

When  shall  break  the  morning  fair — 
Some  sweet  day  by  and  by. 


IV. 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by — 

When  death’s  damp  is  o’er  us  stealing, 
When  the  dying  chime  is  pealing- 
Then  shall  we,  the  Savior  guiding, 
Reach  our  home,  and  there  abiding 
Thro’  the  everlasting  day — 

We  .shall  dwell  with  Him  for  aye — 

Some  sweet  day  by  and  by. 


RETROSPECTION. 


I. 


t he  storm  hath  ta'en  its  flight, 

I The  heavens  show  no  sign, 

Wd  Save  where  thro’  rifted  clouds 
The  stars  in  splendor  shine. 

The  Moon,  pale  orb  of  night, 

Wierd  shadows  now  doth  cast ; 

And  they  awake  within 
A memory  of  the  past. 


II. 

I think  of  happy  hours 
I’ve  spent  in  days  gone  by, 

I see  the  broken  chains 
In  glittering  ruin  lie. 

The  night  winds  seem  to  bear 
A message  now  to  me, 

A happy,  smiling  face, 

In  pictured  scenes  I see. 


(56) 


57 


III. 

Again  I seem  to  hear 

The  distant  church  bells  chime, 

Their  music  soft  and  clear, 

As  in  the  olden  time 
Is  borne  to  me  ; again 
Together  home  we  walk, 

On  pleasant  Sabbath  eves, 

And  of  the  future  talk. 

IV. 

But  now  those  dreams  have  flown, 
And  as  the  shadows  fall — 

Their  weird  and  ghostly  forms, 
These  memories  recall. 

Yet  the  bright  stars,  which  shine 
In  splendor  far  away, 

Betoken  glad  fruition, 

In  the  realms  of  day. 


THE  DEATH  ANGEL 


A PROGRESSION  OF  THOUGHT. 


INTRODUCTION. 


> 


he  daily  toil  was  done,  twilight  had  flown  ; 
Without,  the  wind,  with  many  a moan  and  groan, 
Sighed  thro’  the  leafless  trees,  all  cold  and  bright 
The  moonbeams  fell,  they  kindled  space—  their  light, 
Weird,  phantom  shadows  cast  upon  the  floor. 

In  fancy,  scenes  of  medieval  lore 
They  brought  to  mind,  when  suddenly  before 
Me  stood  the  “King  of  Terrors,”  in  the  dim, 
Uncertain  light,  and  thus  I spake  to  him — 


THE  ADDRESS. 


Destroyer  grim,  tell  me,  art  thou  the  end, 

Is  there  no  future  life,  no  paths  that  trend 
Beyond  the  bier?  The  tomb,  is’t  there  \ve  cease 
To  have  our  being,  and  is  there  no  peace 
Beyond  this  earthly  veil?  Oblivion, 

This  the  reward  for  which  the  race  is  run  ? 

(58) 


59 


If  this  be  true,  then  I would  seek  thy  breast. 

To  sleep  forever— there  at  least  to  rest. 

Art  thou  the  consummation  of  all  things  ? 

Then  whence,  Oh  whence,  this  pleasing  hope,  which 

[springs 

Up  like  a fount?  Borne  on  this  living  stream, 

Is  hope  of  future  state.  Thou’rt  not  supreme, 

Since  thou  canst  not  destroy  the  vital  spark. 

The  flesh  thou  may’st  consume,  make  it  the  mark 
For  worms  to  feed  upon,  and  turn  again 
The  dust  to  dust — the  earth  to  earth — attain 
A victory  complete  o’er  mortal  man. 

Not  that  wherein  creation  first  began, 

Which  is  the  life  of  all. 

Yet  thou,  oh  death, 

Thou  “King  of  Terror,”  lurks  there  in  thy  breast 
What  seems  destruction.  Power  thou  hast  none, 

E’en  to  destroy  : since  the  Eternal  One 
Is  not  more  fixed  than  our  material  things — 

Thou  canst  but  change  their  form.  This  why  there 

[springs 

Within,  a hope  of  immortality — 

A hope  of  future  good,  from  evil  free. 


6o 


Yet  why,  why  prate  I thus?  No  enmity 

Has  thou  toward  human  kind ; thou  would’st  but  free 

Us  from  the  curse  which  our  first  parents  brought 

Upon  the  human  race.  In  vain  we’ve  sought 

To  ’scape  from  evil,  and  no  other  way 

Save  thee  we’ve  found.  When  from  this  mortal  clay 

Thou  pluckest  us,  thou  messenger  of  Him, 

The  Giver  of  all  life— ’tis  then  the  dim 
And  hazy  mists  betake  themselves  to  flight, 

And  over  all  breaks  the  Eternal  light. 

’Tis  then  we  know  with  understanding,  and, 

From  evil  free,  we  seek  the  better  land. 

Blest  angel,  thou,  in  garb  of  sombre  hue, 

Thou  earnest  not  destroying — rather  to 
Fulfill  our  hopes  of  the  immortal  life, 

Beyond  earth’s  cares,  beyond  this  mortal  strife. 

^ *1*  ^ 

And  muttering  thus,  I woke,  found  I had  dreamed, 
And  death  to  me,  no  more  was  what  it  seemed — 

An  angel  of  destruction. 


THE  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 


fwo  score  and  ten,  the  years  ; How  swift  they  fly 
Ah,  me,  how  swift ! 

v-  Thy  love  dear  lass,  how  well  remember  I 
The  precious  gift ; 

And  in  that  love  I glory  still  to-day, 

And  as  of  yore 

Renew  the  vows,  that  had  been  made  for  aye. 

And  evermore 

The  distant  wedding  bells  I seem  to  hear, 

Their  merry  chime 

Bespeaks  affinity,  sweet,  low  and  clear, 

In  runic  rhyme. 

I live  in  that  .sweet  far  off  yesterday, 

When  we  were  wed  ; 

In  fancy  I can  see  the  scene  to-day, 

Tho’  years  have  fled. 

Much  have  we  borne  which  it  was  hard  to  bear. 

Yes,  much  dear  wife, 

Yet  God  was  good,  we’ve  had  His  tender  care 
Amid  the  strife. 

(61) 


62 


Our  children  and  grand-children,  dearest  wife, 

In  love  shall  shield 

Us  in  declining  years,  until  our  life 
In  Hea’vn  is  sealed. 

Life’s  morning  and  its  noon  have  ta’en  their  flight, 
These  we  have  passed, 

Now  with  the  even  .shadows  and  twilight, 

Our  lot  is  cast. 

When  He  shall  gather  His  dear  children  home, 
With  Him  to  dwell 

Thro’  the  eternal  years,  no  more  to  roam, 

All  shall  be  well. 

All  shall  be  well  with  us  dear  wife, 

When  we  have  entered  in  that  life, 

Which  lies  beyond  this  earthly  strife, 

All  shall  be  well. 


i 


SOME  TIME— A PSALM  OF  HOPE. 


I. 

ome  time — I know  not  when, 

Thou  wilt  find  rest,  my  soul ; 
This  is  sufficient  now, 

When  Thou  dost  reach  thy  goal— 
The  Tord  of  Fife  who  did  create, 

In  joy  thy  grief  shall  consummate  ; 
Thou’lt  grieve  no  more, 

When  life  is  o’er. 

II. 

Some  time,  oh  soul,  thou’lt  be, 

Beyond  temptations  power  ; 
Perfected,  cleansed,  and  free 
From  sin,  when  is  the  hour 
Arrived,  wherein  thou  art  called  home ; 
Then  soul  thou  wilt  no  longer  roam — 
No  longer  roam, 

Far  from  thy  home. 

(63) 


64 


III. 

Some  time,  I know  not  when — 

Thy  sorrow,  grief  and  pain, 

Will  change  to  joy — ’tis  then, 

Pure  and  without  a stain— 

Oh,  soul,  in  perfect  harmony 
With  Him,  thy  Maker,  thou  shalt  be, 

When  life  is  o’er, 

Thou  grieve  no  more. 

' IV. 

Some  time — somewhere,  my  soul, 

I know  thou  wilt  find  rest ; 

Some  time  thou’lt  reach  thy  goal, 

Some  time  thou  shalt  be  blest — 

In  presence  of  Eternal  Eight, 

Thy  faith — thy  faith,  shall  change  to  sight ; 
Thou  shalt  be  blest, 

Thou  shalt  find  rest. 


THE  DECORATION  DAY. 


|fhe  cannon  booms  no  more, 

The  clarion  notes  of  war 

Tong  since  have  ceased,  and  unity  doth  reign. 
With  garland  deck  the  grave 
Of  every  hero  brave, 

Who  for  the  dear  old  starry  flag  was  slain. 


I. 


To-day  they  gather  round  the  graves 
Wherein  their  comrades  lie, 

And  hallowed  songs  are  born  aloft 
To  marshaled  hosts  on  high. 


II. 

Tife’s  morning  and  its  noon  have  fled, 
The  even  shadows  creep 
About  them  now,  they  wait  the  night 
Wherein  they,  too,  shall  sleep. 

(65) 


66 


III. 

And  as  they  gather  round  those  tombs, 
They  wonder  who  will  be, 

The  next  to  answer  the  roll  call 
Of  God’s  Eternity, 

IV. 

The  “City  of  the  Dead,”  recalls 
The  far-off  yesterday ; 

Death  levels  all,  the  tear  is  shed 
Alike  for  Blue  and  Gray. 

V. 

A living  spectacle — the  past, 

In  panoramic  view, 

The  Decoration  Day  recalls 

For  both  the  Gray  and  Blue. 

VI. 

Again  they  march  the  double  quick, 
Through  rain  and  hail  and  snow  ; 

They  think  not  of  themselves,  but  of 
Their  country’s  weal  and  woe. 


67 


VII. 

They  stand  upon  the  battle  field, 

They  hear  the  leaden  rain  ; 

And  curses,  prayers,  and  groans  are  born 
Across  the  sodden  plain. 

VIII. 

They  hear  the  cannon’s  thunder  tones, 
Shells  bursting  in  the  air ; 

The  dead  and  wounded  strew  the  ground, 
And  Death  is  everywhere. 

• * * 

’Tis  but  a momentary  dream, 

The  scene  then  fades  away ; 

Theyr  stand  again  amid  the  tombs, 

In  which  their  comrades  lay. 


With  garlands  deck  the  grave 
Of  every  hero  brave, 

Who  for  the  dear  old  starry  flag  was  slain  ; 
The  cannon  booms  no  more, 

The  clarion  notes  of  war 
Long  since  have  ceased,  and  unity  doth  reign. 


GRACE  BEFORE  MEALS. 


^t  break  of  day,  at  the  noontide, 

And  when  is  come  the  eve  ; 

Our  voices  rise  in  thankfulness, 

For  all  that  we  receive 
From  Thee,  our  God — for  Thou  dost  give 
What  for  our  good  is  best ; 

And,  Lord,  we  pray,  that  all  Thy  gifts 
May  with  content  be  blest. 

Lord,  do  Thou  be  with  us,  until 
We  each  shall  meet  again  ; 

And  may  we  feel  that  Thou  art  near — 
For  Thy  name’s  sake.  Amen. 


(68) 


A PLEA. 


«S&iy  Father,  all  is  dark,  I cannot  see  ; 

|jt  Theroadisrugged,steep,guide,guideThou  me: 
The  tempest  rages  fierce,  the  storm  is  high, 
Clasp,  Father,  clasp  my  hand,  stay  Thou  near  by. 

As  darkness  gathers  round,  my  soul  doth  flee 
From  overhanging  ill,  to  seek  for  Thee  ; 

So,  Father,  when  I stray,  far  from  Thy  side 
Mid  the  encircling  gloom,  do  Thou  still  guide. 

In  higher  planes  than  these  my  soul  would  live, 

It  seeks  to  know  Thee,  Ford  ; do  Thou  but  give 
Me  understanding,  then  each  day  shall  see 
Me  grow,  my  Father,  more — more  like  to  Thee. 

And  when  life’s  surges,  like  a mighty  sea 
Are  gathering  round,  then  Father,  do  Thou  be 
Near  by  Thine  erring  one,  and  let  him  feel, 

That  Thou,  that  Thou  art  near,  in  woe  or  weal. 


(69) 


RONDEAU. 


hail  her  I love,  none  are  more  fair, 

She’s  roguish  eyes,  and  brownish  hair ; 
About  her  lips  a smile  will  play — 

At  my  approach  it  fades  away, 

And  then  I wonder  does  she  care  ? 

Her  merry  laugh,  is  like  a ray 
Of  sunshine  on  a summers  day— 

And  never  maid  more  debonnaire, 

Than  her  I love. 

To-day  she  smiles,  and  all  is  fair, 

To-morrow  sees  me  in  despair  ; 

I often  turn,  half  in  dismay, 

To  see  my  vision  .swept  away — , 

And  yet,  Ah  me  ! None  are  more  fair. 

Than  her  I love. 


(70) 


TO  MY  WIFE 


I. 

«he  daily  toil  is  done, 

The  Sun  sinks  in  the  West ; 
The  evening  shadows  come, 
Come  with  their  cool,  sweet  rest  ; 
And  I — I conjure  up 
A wee  face,  half  divine  ; 

Then  whispers  the  sweet  words, 
“Ich  liebe  dich  allein.” 


II. 

And  when  the  twilight  comes, 
Your  spirit  broods  o’er  me  ; 
Your  happy  smiling  face 
In  pictured  scenes  I see. 

Your  twinkling  roguish  eyes 
Seem  looking  into  mine  ; 

I hear  you  wispering, 

‘Tch  liebe  dich  allein.” 

(70 


72 


III. 

And  when  the  twilight’s  gone, 

And  the  dark  night  shades  fall  ; 

I feel  your  presence,  wife, 

I hear  the  spirits  call — 

And  the  night  winds  which  moan, 
Thro’  yonder  lonely  pine, 

Your  message  bear  to  me — 

“Ich  liebe  dich  allein.” 

THE  AFTERTHOUGHT. 

The  distant  town  clock  tolls  the  hour  of  ten, 
And  as  by  fate,  or  by  some  strange  design  ; 
The  strokes  recall  those  tender  words  again — 
“Ich  liebe  dich — Ich  liebe  dich  allein.'1 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY. 


jfhrice  hallowed  morn, 

On  which  was  born 
The  freedom  of  a people  ; 

In  hollowed  strain 
The  glad  refrain 

Peels  forth  from  belfryed  steeple. 


The  flag  of  silvery  stars, 

The  flag  of  crimson  bars, 
Unfurls*  its  folds  to-day  ; 
Rekindling  flame  within, 

Of  freedom,  mid  the  din 
Of  Independence  Day. 

The  patriotic  flame, 

By  freedom’s  holy  name 
Is  fanned  anew  to  life  ; 
Recalls  the  cannon’s  roar, 
vScenes  that  have  gone  before, 
Of  carnage  and  of  strife. 

(73) 


74 


- 


And  as  the  silvery  stars, 

And  as  the  crimson  bars, 

Wave  ’neath  the  summer  skies  ; 
In  pictured  scenes  we  see 
Our  heroes  brave,  and  we 
Them  now  immortalize. 

* * * 

The  cannon’s  roar 
Is  heard  once  more, 

Recalls  it  freedoms  story, 

And  freedom’s  light 
Is  shining  bright, 

Mid  Independence  glory. 


AN  ORDER  FOR  A PICTURE. 


I. 


lome,  artist,  me  a picture  paint, 
The  scene  a woodland  glade, 


A stream — a pure,  clear  sparkling  .stream, 
And  oaks,  beneath  whose  shade 
In  fancy  I may  rest  these  limbs, 

Aweary  from  the  strife  ; 

Come,  artist,  come  and  paint  the  scene, 

A picture  true  to  life. 


II. 


Wild  flowers,  varied  in  their  tints, 

To  dot  the  landscape  o’er, 

The  stream,  its  banks  in  verdure  green — 
With  pebbles  on  the  shore 
Near  which  the  laughing  water’s  dance, 
And  sing  the  livelong  day, 

Their  joyous  song — the  while  they  kiss 
The  shore  in  wanton  play. 


(75) 


76 


III. 

The  ruins  of  some  castle  old, 

Oil  which,  Time’s  hand  has  laid 

Its  crumbling  touch,  ’twill  teach  me  that 
These  earthly  things  must  fade. 

And  in  the  distance,  far  away, 

Let  snowcapped  mountains  rise 

To  height  sublime — the  while  the  Sun 
Sets  mid  Celestial  dyes. 

IV. 

Such  scenes  as  these  make  one  forget 
Lifes  worry  and  its  strife ; 

I’ll  pay  thee  well,  come,  artist  paint, 

The  picture  true  to  life. 


IN  MEMORIAM  OF  THE  FIREMEN 
WILLIAM  BOCKLAGE  AND  EDWARD  ANDERSON. 


n muffled  tones  the  brazen  bell, 

Tolls  forth  its  rune  of  human  woe  ; 
Its  dirge-like  music  seems  to  tell 
To  human  hearts  that  overflow — 

In  sad  and  subdued  monotone  ; 

They  live — and  ye  are  not  alone. 

* . * 

* 

A stillness  lingers  in  the  air, 

A silence  reigns  supreme  ; 

The  clouds  in  Heavens  canopy, 

All  motionless  now  seem. 

In  all  his  .splendor  the  bright  Sun, 

His  rays  seems  to  withhold  ; 

Two  widows  mourn  their  greatest  loss, 
A sacrifice  untold. 


(77) 


A prayer  from  kind  and  loving  hearts 
Goes  out  in  weak  assent, 
Acknowledging  the  might  of  Death 
Upon  his  errand  bent. 

A solemn  prayer  is  offered  up, 

A prayer  firm  and  true  ; 

The  tears  that  fall  from  kindly  eyes, 
Surpass  e’en  Heaven’s  dew. 

Alas,  we  cannot  understand 
Why  the  loved  ones  should  die, 

Our  grief  is  vain,  He  knoweth  best, 
And  when  we  question  why — 

We  seem  to  hear  the  answer,  and 
The  cold  and  stern  reply, 

It  is  the  changeless  will  of  God, 

That  all  who  live  must  die. 

Then  cease  your  weeping  for  the  dead 
’Tis  an  unbroken  bond — 

And  they  have  found  eternal  peace, 

In  that  fair  world  beyond. 

And  when  this  life  has  ceased  to  be, 
You’ll  meet  on  that  fair  shore; 

You’ll  meet,  not  as  you  met  on  earth, 
You’ll  meet  to  part  no  more. 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 


hen  the  burden’s  heavy,  brother, 

And  your  load  is  hard  to  bear ; 
When  your  friends  seem  to  forsake  you, 
When  you’ve  more  than  your  own  share 
Of  these  earthly  ills  ; there’s  easing — 

On  the  Savior  cast  your  care  ; 

He  will  give  you  peace,  my  brother ; 

He  will  hearken  to  your  prayer. 

If  the  way  is  dark  and  dreary, 

If  the  clouds  are  hanging  low  ; 

If  you’ve  lost  your  way,  my  brother, 

And  you  know  not  where  to  go — 

Look  to  Jesus,  He  will  lead  you, 

Guide  you  safely  thro’  the  night ; 

Guide  your  weary  feet,  my  brother, 

Out  from  darkness  into  light. 

When  you  meet  with  sore  disaster, 

When  your  hopes  all  seem  to  fail, 

Know  my  brother,  in  their  dying — 

That  you’ve  found  the  Holy  Grail. 

Drink  with  Him  the  cup  of  sorrow, 

Know  the  crucifixion  tree  j 
Then  your  soul  shall  know  the  secret 
Of  the  Christ  of  Galilee. 


SHADOW  PAINTINGS  ON  THANKSGIVING  EVE. 


fhe  hour  was  late,  the  lamp  was  burning  low  ; 

The  room  was  draped  in  darkness,  and  the  glow 
Of  dying  coals,  sent  forth  a flickering  light, 
Which  painted  weird  fantasms  of  the  night 
Upon  the  wall — such  were  they,  as  one  seems 
To  see,  when  one  is  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

One  shadow  seemed  like  that  of  an  old  man, 

With  scanty  locks — who  must  have  passed  the  span 
Of  man’s  alloted  age.  He  seemed  to  pray, 

His  head  was  bowed,  methought  I heard  him  .say  : 
Lord,  hear  my  prayer  of  thankfulness, 

Tho’  I am  sore  oppressed — 

I thank  Thee  still,  for  at  life’s  close 
I know  Thou'lt  give  me  rest. 

And  then  the  scene  was  changed,  this  time  I saw 
A woman  frail,  upon  a bed  of  straw, 

Amid  the  shadows — she  was  not  alone, 

For  tho’  death  hovered  near,  about  her  shone 
The  glory  of  the  Master,  and 
In  thankfulness  her  soul 
Went  forth  to  meet  its  maker — went  forth, 

To  seek  its  Heav’nly  goal. 

(80) 


— 8i  — 

Another  then  my  vision  seemed  to  grace, 

Two  lovers  met,  at  their  old  trysting  place ; 

And  happy  in  each  others  love  were  they, 

And  a glad  song,  soon  seemed  to  wing  its  way 
To  Heaven’s  throne  ; a song  of  joy 
Which  they  could  not  repress ; 

And  so  to  God  an  anthem  ’rose, 

A song  of  thankfulness, 

- * * ^ 

The  last  scene,  happiest  of  them  all, 

Was  the  thanksgiving  dinner ; 

I vsaw  the  providence  of  God, 

Bestowed  on  saint  and  sinner. 

And  then  I wondered  how  it  was, 

That  men,  forgotten  had 

The  one  who  gave  each  perfect  gift, 

Mid  their  thanksgivings  glad. 

* * * 

The  hour  was  late — the  lamp  was  low, 
The  dying  coals  had  ceased  to  glow  ; 

The  weird  fantastic  paintings  of  the  night, 
That  had  appeared,  were  gone — and  then 
I sought  my  couch,  laid  by  my  pen — 

The  Goddess  of  the  Muse  had  ta’en  her  flight. 


